A Slow Hand, Deep Thoughts and True Pen

A Slow Hand, Deep Thoughts And True Pen Each time I write of my crashed hopes and dreams mind falls into black-depths, sends cold shivers. Tempted to falsely praise my misdeeds and schemes I return to my vow, embracing realm of true givers. Such leaning towards positive and the good once was abhorrent, not in my prideful style. When lightning bolts struck me as they should I found my life was a massive rubbish pile. With pen and paper I then sought truth to tell of life, love, loss and darkness once embraced. O' yes, I did not hide my parades in hell nor innocent young life I once so disgraced. Years flew by and age gave its usual aches far too oft, I swore to give my poetry up. Darkness whispered, take well deserved breaks porch lounge sit, empty thy hot coffee cup. Ah, but my muse, she heard and was not amused up she bolted, screaming like a raving banshee. Reminded me of my past, my life I had so abused what a coward I would be if I now sought to flee. Pen in hand and regretful of my wasted past I write to send some light and truth boldly tell. Praying some good comes, a few words may last redeem myself from youthful days dancing in hell. 8-21-2017 ( Seek to do good and watch as darkness flees )